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honeyhaeya · 21 days ago

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(🔐)🖇 ༘ ⋆"How to Date Discreetly"

' ╰┈ "can i go where you go? can we always be this close forever and ever?"

' ' 박성훈 x fem!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Lover (Taylor Swift)

♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: idol!sunghoon x idol!reader, ice prince x reckless rookie, secret & established relationship, enemies to lovers (kinda), fluff, smut – MDNI, angst (minor), a pinch of comedy ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! smut, slight jealousy (m), language, detailed explicit scenes, angst (minor), reader on the pill (birth control), mutual hate that’s just actually horny confusion, mild hate (online), – ugh, theyre so in love, its intoxicating ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ smut warnings: unprotected sex (reader doesn't get pregnant, but you might irl, so wrap that shit up), overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), cock riding, rough sex, creampie (lol), praise kink, dirty talk, emotionally charged sex, soft dom hoon, high sex drive hoon ✩‧₊˚ wc: 6003 – 2/2 (mini series) ੈ♡ a/n: this is peak delusion. dont like, dont read. open for constructive critisism but fact checks or logical expected outcome are out of the picture, come on yall, this is fanfiction. this is the last part, y'all, pls enjoyyyy mwuah. be sure to read part 1 ! *^★ playlist: lover (taylor swift), celebrity (iu), they dont know about us (one directon), polaroid love (enhypen)

you were trembling when they handed you the trophy.

your first win.

lights blinding. fans screaming. camera zooming in.

and just when you thought you couldn’t hold it in anymore—tears starting to fall, your members surrounding you like the sisters they’ve become—

a staff passed you a note.

no name. just: practice room 3b. after stage. alone.

your heart knew before your head could catch up.

so after all the cameras stopped flashing, after the encore ended and you waved goodbye with shaky hands—

you went.

and there he was.

sunghoon, leaned against the mirror, hoodie pulled over his cap, eyes meeting yours like he’d been waiting forever.

you walked in and locked the door.

“you came,” you whispered, not quite believing it.

“of course i did,” he said. “you won.”

“we won,” you whispered, and that’s when he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug so tight your knees nearly gave out.

“i’m so proud of you,” he murmured into your hair. “i watched it live. twice.”

you laughed into his chest. “i tripped during the dance break.”

“and still looked better than me every comeback.”

you grinned. “no one’s ever looked better than you during bite me era.”

“...valid.”

and then you stayed like that, forehead to forehead, laughing softly and just being.

just breathing each other in like the chaos of the world couldn’t find you there.

a week later

the fandom wasn’t ready.

a short collab tiktok. your new dance challenge.

you posted it with your leader.

he posted it with you.

and fans went feral.

“wait. is that sunghoon and y/n???” “don’t play with me—this is a power collab” “why are they so… flirty? HUH???” “they have matching energy idc this is my otp now”

even some idols reposted it with captions like “siblings or dating???” and “get a room but make it cute”

you both just smiled and ignored the chaos.

a few weeks later

the photo spread across stan twitter like wildfire.

a local park. grainy zoom.

a girl in an oversized tee and denim shorts, cap low, platinum-blonde strands peeking out.

a guy in a hoodie and mask, arms swinging beside hers, sneakers kicking up sand as they teased and fake-ran after each other.

laughing.

laughing like they had nothing to hide.

laughing like they forgot the world existed.

“wait is that them—” “sunghoon and y/n in public?!” “no way that’s not them” “i actually think this is kind of sweet???” “you can tell they’ve been in love for a long time”

of course, some fans weren’t having it.

“if it’s true i’m unfollowing” “he should focus on his career” “i don’t support this at all”

but for every hater, there were two fans saying:

“they deserve happiness” “you can tell they make each other so happy it’s insane” “i want a love like this…”

and behind closed doors, in their bubble of stolen glances and whispered phone calls and late-night snack deliveries—

you and sunghoon just smiled.

because maybe the world didn’t know for sure.

but you both did.

and that was enough.

he didn’t even say hi.

not even a “you look beautiful,” or a “i missed you”—though god knows he did. months of schedules, oceans apart, stolen glances through screens that never felt like enough.

but the moment the door shut behind you, he was already moving. one step. two. arms around your waist, lips crashing into yours like he’d been holding his breath this whole time.

your back hit the wall gently, his hands framing your face, breath trembling as if you were something fragile, sacred.

he didn’t rush. didn’t speak. just kissed you like the world had been unbearably quiet without you.

you tasted like home.

and he tasted like longing.

his lips moved with yours, slow but deep. his hands were over your waist, pulling your body close to him.

he moved fast—you didn’t even notice his hands slipping under the fabric of your shirt, touching your bare skin. you gasped, trying to question what was going on, but he just took that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. your knees buckled, but he was there to hold you. he always was.

sunghoon lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist instantly. he didn’t pull away until he laid you gently on the bed, like you were fragile glass.

his lips trailed to your cheeks, your jawline, then your neck. his hand held your chin, tilting your face to the side, giving him more access to the soft flesh.

slow. steady. nipping, but not enough to leave marks for the world to see. he was careful. he hated hiding you—hated hiding this. but he had to. for both of your sakes. thank god both your schedules lined up this week. this was his only chance. now or never again.

“hoon… i don’t get it… are you alright?” you asked, your voice soft, your body pliant as you let him kiss you like that. melting beneath him.

he didn’t reply right away. instead, he pressed a kiss to your neck, then rested his head on your stomach, settling between your legs.

“i just… missed you.”

you hummed, your fingers brushing through his soft locks. “that’s obvious. i missed you too,” you replied, giggling when he buried his face deeper into your stomach. it was cute. too cute. “tell me the real reason, pengsoo,” you teased.

he smiled. “you smell good… i want to feel you… like really be inside you,” he murmured, already tugging at your clothes. and you let him.

“it’s so hard. seeing you every once in a while, then you’re gone again,” he continued, your top slipping off, your breath hitching as your bra followed seconds after. his fingers traced your bare skin, teasing your sensitive spots with praise—calling you pretty, soft… intentional with every word.

you felt shy all of a sudden. this was the man you liked, dated, got in trouble with. the one who was always there—but somehow, not really. now he was undressing you. your cheeks heated as he pulled your pants down, and you tried to cover your face.

sunghoon noticed, smiling softly as he grabbed your wrists. “i… i love you.”

your breath caught. your cheeks burned. “…i love you too.”

and then he kissed you again. his hand tugged your panties aside, not even pulling away from your lips, keeping you distracted so you wouldn’t hide. “just tap me twice if you want me to stop,” he murmured between kisses, dipping lower. his fingers found your clit—it was already soaked. you were dripping. your grip tightened on his biceps, nails digging in.

then one finger slid inside you. then two. they curled perfectly, making your back arch, your mouth falling open as you gasped into his. he moved them in and out, finding that one perfect spot that made you moan—loudly, desperately—and he loved it.

he pulled away to watch you, fascinated. your flushed cheeks, your messy hair, your eyes rolling back. your pussy swallowing his fingers. lewd. beautiful. he didn’t even notice how hard he was until you came on his fingers, screaming his name.

“fucking beautiful,” he breathed, stripping down completely until nothing was left between you. he kissed your cheeks, muttering sweet nothings and filth that made you hide your face again.

“see how hard you make me?” he whispered. “i get so fucking mad knowing other guys get to look at you like that.”

you frowned, your hand cupping his face. “i’m yours. always.”

“i’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

you nodded, humming. “i want to feel you.”

his cock teased your entrance as he hovered over you, his breath heavy. “p-push it in,” you whispered, holding onto him as he slid in. your walls clenched around him, swallowing him perfectly. you were a moaning mess.

“shit… you’re so tight… perfect,” sunghoon grunted as he finally bottomed out. he stilled, letting you adjust to the stretch, to the overwhelming fullness.

the heat was dizzying. your body felt weightless. then, he drew his hips back and slammed them in again, hard. you screamed, voice cracking.

his pace started slow… but quickly turned feral.

his thrusts were deep, cock dragging along your walls like he was trying to mark you from the inside. the room echoed with the wet, obscene sounds of sex—messy. “fuck, baby,” he growled, lips brushing your ear.

he pulled back just enough to watch. your tits bounced with every thrust, your mouth open in a silent moan, your body wrecked. sunghoon grinned. “so... ha- pretty.”

suddenly, he dropped your thighs and flipped you over like you weighed nothing. he tugged your hips up so you were on your knees, his hand weaving into your hair to arch your back. “you're dripping,” he said, spreading your thighs apart before sliding back in.

you’d never seen him like this. so desperate. so rough. your mind blanked when another sharp thrust hit you.

“hoonnn!” you cried out, face buried in the sheets. his hips slammed into you, hard and fast. you felt every inch.

he leaned over, chest pressed to your back, mouth against your ear. “you like this, baby? you’re fucking perfect,” he rasped.

your moans were muffled, tears slipping down your cheeks as his fingers rubbed and twisted your clit mercilessly. your whole body was shaking.

he kept pounding into you, his cock slamming your cervix, your walls clenching tight. then, he grabbed your face, turning you to kiss him, searing and possessive.

“mouth,” he ordered.

you obeyed, dazed, and he kissed you, saliva mixing with yours before leaning back, watching you. “swallow it. please…”

you did. drunk on him and gone, and he knew. he could see it all over your face.

“f-fuck! hoonnie! i’m gonna cum!” you moaned, eyes rolling back, sobbing.

you came hard, squirting and soaking his cock. he groaned, pulling out just in time as his cum spilled over your folds, hot and thick. it dripped from your swollen pussy.

“so fucking pretty,” he whispered, staring at you like art—flushed, wrecked, dripping.

he brushed the hair from your face, kissing your cheeks. “you did so well.”

and your arms wrapped around him.

your legs were trembling, body still reeling from your high. your breath came out in short, shaky gasps as sunghoon lay beside you, brushing the sweat-damp strands of hair from your face.

"you okay?" he asked gently, voice husky from all the growling, his lips brushing against your forehead.

you nodded, eyes still glazed. "never better," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

but he just smirked—eyes flicking down between your legs, watching how wrecked and sensitive you were. “good,” he said. “'cause we’re not done yet.”

your eyes widened, and he loved that. the way you blinked up at him, totally ruined but still willing—still eager for more.

he sat up, leaning against the headboard, pulling you gently by the waist until you were straddling his lap.

“i wanna see you ride me,” he murmured, hands stroking your hips like he was sculpting you. “want you to learn how to take me like this. slow, deep—your pace. your rhythm.”

you blushed, chewing your lip. “i don’t really… know how.”

“that’s okay, baby. i’ll teach you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “just trust me.”

you shifted nervously, feeling his cock already getting hard again beneath you. still messy from earlier, twitching against your thigh.

sunghoon reached between you, grabbing the base of his cock, guiding it to your entrance. “sit, baby. go slow,” he said softly.

you lowered yourself, gasping as the tip slipped in. he hissed, gripping your waist tighter.

“fuck… that’s it. just like that.”

inch by inch, you sank down on him, stretching around his length again. you whimpered, gripping his shoulders. “s-sunghoon…”

“you’re doing so well,” he praised, kissing your chest. “so fucking tight. so warm. take all of it.”

when your hips finally met his, you both let out a shaky breath. you felt full, stretched, overwhelmed all over again. but god, the look in his eyes—completely ruined, in awe of you—made it worth it.

he cupped your cheeks, kissed you gently. “okay, baby. now move for me.”

you lifted yourself slowly, then lowered again, moaning softly. “ah—hah, i feel everything…”

“yeah?” he grinned. “you feel how deep i am?”

you nodded, tears forming again from the pressure and pleasure. you started rocking your hips, rolling them in slow, deliberate circles, your hands bracing on his chest. the way he groaned—low, raw, possessive—sent heat straight to your core.

“fuck, just like that,” he said, guiding your hips with his hands, helping you ride him. “you’re so sexy like this… bouncing on my cock, eyes all teary…”

you whimpered, gripping his wrists. “feels so good, hoonnie… wanna make you feel good…”

“you are.” his voice dropped. “you’re my dream, baby.”

his hips started meeting yours halfway, thrusting up into you with each bounce. your thighs were shaking, sweat clinging to your skin, but he didn’t let go—his arms around your waist, lips pressed to your neck.

you picked up the pace, moaning louder, his cock hitting that spot that made your body jolt.

“sunghoon! h-ha, i—i can’t!”

“yes you can,” he growled, eyes dark. “show me how pretty you cum riding me.”

you cried out, your body clenching down around him. “i—i’m cumming! hoonn—!”

he wrapped his arms around you tight as you came undone, hips stuttering, your walls spasming around his cock.

sunghoon groaned, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he buried himself deep, cumming inside you without pulling out.

“fuck… fuckkk, baby…”

he held you there, cock twitching inside you, both of you breathless and slick with sweat and cum.

you collapsed against his chest, and he stroked your back, whispering sweet things as you came down from the high.

“you did so good, baby. best fucking student.”

you giggled weakly. “best teacher.”

he grinned against your skin. “lesson two’s in ten minutes.”

you were slumped against his chest, sticky and spent, your thighs trembling from the effort. sunghoon gently stroked your spine, humming softly like he wasn’t the one who just had you seeing stars.

but then you felt it.

that unmistakable twitch inside you.

you gasped.

“wait—hoon… you’re still hard?”

his voice was pure mischief now, cocky and low in your ear. “i told you. lesson two’s in ten minutes. but you’re such a fast learner��” he tilted your chin up, his smirk deadly. “thought we could skip ahead.”

before you could answer, he was shifting you effortlessly, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing. his body hovered over yours—warm, slick, glistening with sweat. the dim lighting made his skin look like gold, hair a tousled mess, and his lips were swollen from kissing you like he needed you to breathe.

“legs up,” he murmured.

you blinked, still hazy. “w-what?”

“legs up, baby. now. hands under your knees. i wanna see everything.”

and god—you obeyed.

he groaned at the view, pupils blown. “fuck, look at this mess… all because of me.”

he didn’t waste a second. he slid back inside with ease—your walls still sensitive, wet, perfect for him. you let out a gasping whimper, eyes flying open.

“too much?” he asked, faux sweet, brushing hair from your face.

you shook your head quickly. “n-no… don’t stop…”

he grinned. “good girl.”

he started slow—too slow—just rocking his hips in lazy, deep thrusts. each roll dragged a moan out of you, your overstimulated body twitching beneath him.

“you’ve taken me so well tonight,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “you’re not even trying to run away now…”

you whimpered, fingers clutching his shoulders.

“you like it when i fill you up, huh?” thrust. “like when i don’t hold back.” thrust. “you were made for this, weren’t you?”

his hips snapped into you harder now, and your moan turned into a cry. your hands scrambled for purchase, nails dragging down his back.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me again,” he groaned, pace quickening. “you gonna cum again, baby?”

“i-i don’t know—hah, too much, i can’t—!”

“yes you can,” he growled, one hand gripping your jaw. “open those pretty eyes and look at me when you fall apart.”

and when you did—legs shaking, eyes rolling, moaning his name like a prayer—he followed right after, pushing deep and cumming with a broken gasp of your name.

he didn’t move for a moment, forehead resting against yours, both of you covered in heat and breathlessness.

finally, he chuckled. “third time’s the charm, huh?”

you could only giggle weakly, completely wrecked.

“my best student,” he whispered, kissing your lips. “but you’re not graduating yet. i’m keeping you in class forever.”

your legs were jelly. like actual, boneless, no-sensation-left jelly. sunghoon didn’t even give you time to whimper about it. no—he just swept you up bridal-style, still looking like he didn’t break a sweat, and padded right into the kitchen with his bare ass on display like he owned the whole goddamn hotel room (and you. very much you).

you blinked as he set you on the cold counter, your skin prickling.

“h-hoon… water first?”

he just smirked. “i’m thirsty, yeah. but not for that.”

you knew that look.

that glint in his eye.

the same one he had the night he bent you over the shower door.

“baby…” you started, weakly trying to protest.

but he already had your knees spread again, palms pressing your thighs apart like he was flipping open a favorite book.

“can’t help it,” he muttered, eyes locked on your completely ruined core. “you look too good like this. like you want me to make a mess in here too.”

“but—countertop—hoon this is a kitchen—”

“and now,” he purred, dragging his length along your entrance with a dark grin, “it’s where i’ll eat you, too.”

you nearly screamed.

he slid in without warning—your whole body arched off the marble. he grabbed your waist, holding you still as he bottomed out again, slow and deliberate.

“still so tight,” he groaned. “after all that?”

you sobbed a little laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“fuck, you’re incredible,” he whispered, forehead pressed against yours. “ruined and perfect and mine.”

his hips started moving, hard and fast—filthy wet sounds echoing with every thrust. your back kept thudding against the cupboards, the fridge humming violently beside you.

“anyone could walk in,” you gasped.

“let them,” he growled, hand wrapping around your throat just enough to make your head spin. “let them see who this pussy belongs to.”

your moan came out wrecked.

he drove into you like a man possessed, the counter rocking beneath your bodies. sweat dripped from his jaw, and his voice went breathless:

“gonna fill you up again,” he whispered, right in your ear. “you’re gonna be leaking me for hours, baby.”

that was all it took—you clenched around him, body trembling, and he lost it, spilling inside you with a hoarse cry of your name.

he collapsed into your chest, both of you panting, sweaty, sticky, and probably going to have to bleach the counter.

after a minute, you groaned, weakly swatting his back.

“what happened to just water?”

he smirked against your skin. “hydration starts with you.”

sunghoon’s still inside you when he leans in and kisses your temple. it’s soft. way too soft for someone who just absolutely demolished you on a hotel kitchen counter.

you’re both still breathing heavy, your chest rising against his, your thighs twitching around his waist.

but hoon doesn’t move.

doesn’t pull out.

just holds you like he’s afraid the moment might dissolve if he lets go.

“baby…” he says it quietly, like he’s scared to break the calm. “we’ve got a little time, right?”

you nod, a little dazed. “mhm.”

he finally smiles. that soft one. the rare kind. the one he only gives when it’s just you and him, wrapped up in the low hum of hotel aircon and the warmth of being close.

“then i’m not done yet.”

your stomach flips.

before you can ask what he means, he’s pulling you off the counter—slowly this time, carefully—and carrying you bridal-style again, lips brushing your shoulder.

“gonna make the most of every second, angel,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “wanna remember how you sound. how you look. how you feel.”

he lays you down on the big hotel bed, sheets still crisp and hot from earlier.

and this time?

he takes his time.

his hands move slow, like he’s memorizing you. lips pressing gentle kisses from your collarbone to your thighs, whispering between every one.

“love how soft you are…”

“god, look at you—so pretty like this…”

“gonna keep you full, baby. wanna stay with you like this until the sun comes up.”

and he does.

there’s no rush. no teasing. just sunghoon, worshipping you like you’re his last good thing in the world.

he kisses every part of you, murmurs praises against your skin, and when he slides into you again—it’s slow. achingly slow. just hips pressed together, foreheads touching, fingers intertwined like he’s holding on for dear life.

you’re not just his tonight.

you’re his home.

and maybe the world outside is chaotic and cold, but here?

with him?

it’s soft. safe. sinful. sacred.

and when he finally falls asleep, arms wrapped around you, lips ghosting “i love you” into your shoulder—you believe him.

the sun barely peeks through the hotel curtains, soft light filtering in like it’s trying to give you a break. but no. no peace. not when you’re dealing with park sunghoon.

you’re standing—well, attempting to stand—in front of the mirror, trying to shimmy on your shorts. your legs feel like noodles, your thighs ache, and your hips scream in protest with every movement.

“babe,” you groan, gripping the edge of the dresser for support. “I can’t walk.”

from behind you, he hums—fucking hums—like he didn’t just ruin your entire lower half hours ago.

“you shouldn’t have looked that good last night,” he shrugs from the bed, sheet half-draped over his naked waist, eyes heavy and smug.

you shoot him a look in the mirror. “you say that like it’s my fault my thighs exist.”

he grins. “it is your fault for looking at me like that. like you wanted dessert—and not the kind on the menu.”

“sunghoon—”

but before you can finish, he's behind you, arms slipping around your waist, lips ghosting along the curve of your shoulder. you jolt.

“sunghoon, I’m literally trying to put my pants on—”

“you don’t need pants,” he mumbles, voice low and sleepy and dangerous. “just lay down for a second. just one more.”

“you said ‘just one more’ like four orgasms ago—”

he gently tugs the shorts from your grip, lets them drop to the floor again.

“baby,” he pouts, pressing a kiss to your neck, “can’t help it. you’re walking around all sore and pretty, making those little noises when you bend, acting all shy—what am I supposed to do? respect you?”

you snort. “yes?!?”

but he’s already guiding you back to the bed, back to him, back under the covers where his hands are warm and his mouth is hungry again.

and when he pushes your legs apart, head dipping between your thighs, tongue flicking slow and evil over your inner thigh, you realize—

you’re not walking out of that hotel room soon.

[THE WALK OF “FAME”]

you step out of the hotel with sunglasses too big for your face and a cap pulled so low it nearly hides your whole soul. your body’s still screaming for rest, but your manager’s van is already parked just outside, tinted windows and all. no time to cry.

well—maybe a little whimper when you shift your legs.

you glance down at yourself. hoodie? check. shorts? regretfully, check. confidence? left it in the sheets of that king-sized bed where he is probably still sprawled, proud and shirtless.

your phone buzzes.

sunghoon: you forgot to kiss me goodbye sunghoon: also i found ur sock under the bed lol. want it back or should i keep it as a trophy?

you almost trip over your own feet from laughing. covering your mouth quickly, you slide into the backseat like an embarrassed criminal on the run.

you reply with a selfie—sunglasses, pout, middle finger up.

you: keep it. bury it. i never wanna see that cursed room again. sunghoon: cursed??? wow. so u scream my name like a prayer in cursed places now huh? got it.

you physically bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, but your manager glances at you in the rearview mirror. you straighten up, pretending you’re just… normal. functional. not completely demolished by park sunghoon.

[THE FANMEET DISASTER THAT WASN’T]

you’d been smiling all day, hearts and polaroids flying, fans whispering sweet words that made you feel lighter. until… he walked in.

disguised in an oversized hoodie, baseball cap, mask—as if that jawline could be hidden. you almost broke character when you recognized the slouch of his shoulders, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap of his bag like a schoolboy with a crush.

you play it cool when he approaches.

"name?" you ask sweetly, not even hiding your smirk.

he tilts his head. “hoon. with an h.”

you scribble it down on his photocard, doodling a heart beside it. "thanks for coming, pengsoo. you’re really cute." then you leaned close, just enough to whisper. "you crazy bastard, if you get recognized I'm out of this."

he stares at you. “...thanks,” he says, flat. and walks away dramatically like he’s the one being played.

[THE VAN]

you finally climb into the random van later, excusing yourself from your manager and members. you even dragged a rookie staff to sit in front so you and hoon could have the entire backseat to yourselves.

as soon as you slide in, sunghoon’s arms cross. he looks away dramatically.

“oh, you’re mad now?” you laugh.

he glares. “so you treat your fans better than you treat me? I waited 40 minutes in line and all I got was a you’re cute and a smile like you didn’t make me almost break the hotel furniture last night.”

you giggle, poking his cheek. “you are cute.”

“not the point!” he whines. “you called me ‘sir’ and everything—who even taught you to be that sweet?!”

you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. “guess I’m just that good.”

he sighs dramatically, already pulling you into his lap.

"you're gonna pay for this. you know that, right?"

you blink innocently. “what’re you gonna do? break my legs again?”

he narrows his eyes.

“…worse. I’m gonna make you fall harder.”

the van rolls through the city, a lazy sunset washing golden light over tinted windows. you’re curled into sunghoon’s lap, hoodie sleeves hiding the way your fingers keep sneaking up his sides to poke him like you’re five.

“stop,” he says, grinning, arms wrapping around your waist. “you’re gonna get us caught.”

“you started it!” you whisper back, smacking his arm as he leans in to nuzzle your neck.

“oh my god—hoon, shh,” you giggle breathlessly, swatting at him again. “what if they hear?”

he chuckles, voice low and teasing against your ear. “shoot, haha.”

and then his hands are moving—fingers spidering up your sides, making you yelp as he tickles you mercilessly.

you squirm in his lap, laughing, trying not to be loud, but his mouth is curled in that smug smirk that means he’s enjoying every second of this.

“you’re evil!” you gasp, face warm, breath hitching when you shift and feel—

“…you’re hard,” you say flatly, raising a brow, hair all over your face as you freeze in his lap.

he stops tickling, blinking at you.

“you’re definitely hard,” you repeat, a little louder, a little smugger.

sunghoon rolls his eyes. “you’re squirming in my lap like a cute little worm, what do you expect?”

you smack him again. “don’t call me a worm when you’re—”

“raging. yeah. your fault.”

you stare at him, flustered, breathless, laughing, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as you try to calm your heart—and everything else he just activated.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

“you love me,” he whispers back, arms tightening around you like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

and you do. you really do. even if he’s currently a menace in every sense.

up front, your manager exchanges a knowing glance with hoon’s, the two of them scrolling on their phones, pretending they didn’t hear any of that.

the rookie staff just sips her coffee.

“…she’s really quiet today,” she comments.

both managers nod.

“yup. probably just tired,” hoon’s manager says, deadpan.

they’ve all known for months.

they’re just pretending they don’t.

because the love these two idiots have? it’s the kind that can’t be managed out of them anyway.

the rooftop was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of fairy lights they’d strung up in a rush. takeout containers litter the picnic blanket they brought, drinks sweating in the evening air, and the city lights below blink like they’re watching—silent witnesses to a love that never stood still.

you’re lying beside him, his hoodie pulled over your head, sleeves long enough to swallow your hands. sunghoon’s cap is low on his face, but the smile he’s been wearing all night? yeah. nothing could hide that.

“you know we’re not really disguised, right?” you murmur, nudging him with your knee. “we look like staff, sure, but we still shine like dumbass stars.”

he snorts, hand reaching out to hold yours. “it’s because we are stars. duh.”

you laugh, the sound soft and small and just for him. your manager had reluctantly agreed to this—one last date before he leaves with his members tomorrow. they’d whispered, “make it quick,” but they knew damn well these fools wouldn’t listen. love like this doesn’t follow call times.

hoon sits up, arms stretched over his head as he yawns. “should we go?”

“you wanna go?”

“no.”

you grin. “then stay.”

and just like that, he pounces.

you squeal, trying to escape, but he’s already chasing you around the rooftop like a lovesick idiot. he catches you by the waist, spinning you, your laughter echoing into the sky as you crash onto the blanket again, breathless and tangled.

“you’re crazy,” you whisper.

“you’re stuck with me,” he whispers back, nose brushing yours.

and then he kisses you.

slow at first. gentle. like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips, the taste of you, the way your breath stutters when he pulls you closer.

but it doesn’t stay slow.

not when you cup his face. not when your hands disappear under his hoodie. not when he presses you into the blanket with a soft groan like he’s trying to mold your bodies into one.

his hand slips under your shirt, warm and reverent, like he’s trying to say goodbye without ever using the word.

you kiss him harder, just to shut the sadness up.

because tomorrow’s coming.

and he’s leaving.

but tonight?

tonight, he’s yours.

in every laugh.

in every kiss.

in every heartbeat pressed against yours.

it’s quieter than usual in the company building. late, after practice hours, when everyone’s tired and scattered. the hallways are mostly empty except for you and sunghoon, sneaking through the dimly lit space like you’ve got all the time in the world… but neither of you do.

you stop in front of a door tucked at the end of the hallway—a secluded little area you two like to use when no one’s around. the walls here are soft and quiet, like they understand the weight of your secret love. hoon looks down at you, his face unreadable for a second before his lips pull into a smile, a bittersweet one.

“this is it, huh?” you whisper, looking up at him.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he just pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.

“you’re not going anywhere,” you murmur into his chest, but the words feel hollow even to you. because you know tomorrow, he’ll be gone.

hoon pulls back slightly, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. there’s so much unsaid in that look, but then—his lips. they’re on yours before you can stop it.

it’s gentle, a slow burn of goodbye, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens as his hands slide to your neck, pulling you closer as if he wants to hold onto this moment forever. you kiss him back with everything you have, even as the pain in your chest starts to build.

the sound of footsteps approaching pulls you both apart with a snap, hoon’s fingers brushing your cheek one last time before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll text you. and don’t forget to check your bag,” he whispers against your skin, voice low.

you blink up at him, confused, but before you can ask—he’s gone. disappearing into the hall, leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

later that night, in your shared dorm, you slump onto your bed, exhausted from the chaos of the day. your three friends—who all know the secret—are chatting around you, unaware of what you’re about to find.

you’re digging through your bag, mind on something else, when your fingers brush against something unexpected. a plastic bag, slightly crinkling as you pull it out. it’s filled with all your favorite snacks, the ones you’ve been craving but haven’t allowed yourself to eat in weeks.

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you just sit there in disbelief. hoon knew. you can almost hear his voice in your head—“you’re too hard on yourself. eat the damn snacks.”

you grin to yourself, because even though he’s gone, he’s still here with you. in these snacks. in his words. in the little ways he’s still taking care of you.

you text him back immediately: “you’re an idiot. but i love you.”

his reply comes almost instantly. “just wait until i’m back. i’ll sneak way more stuff into your bag.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head, because damn, even from a distance, he’s still making everything feel so damn real.

the next day, hoon’s getting ready to leave, and his members are, as usual, teasing him. sunoo and jungwon are in the van, and they’re not even trying to hide their amusement.

“dude, you’re like obsessed with her,” sunoo teases, grinning like a little shit. “you’ve barely been here all week.”

jungwon raises an eyebrow, smirking. “i thought you were supposed to be the one who couldn’t keep your hands off her, and yet... here we are.”

hoon groans, his face flushed with embarrassment. “shut up, you guys. she’s not just anyone.”

“right, right,” sunoo grins. “she’s the one.”

“can you stop?” hoon mutters, slumping back in his seat. “this is not the time to talk about this.”

but then, sunghoon’s phone buzzes. he glances at it, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he reads the text from you. his heart clenches, but before he can respond, sunoo smirks again.

“she texted you again? still sending you love notes, huh?”

hoon doesn’t say anything, just stares out the window, because damn, he’s going to miss this. miss her.

but for now? he has one more ride with his members. one more teasing session. one more stolen moment of normal before everything changes.

your night starts normal. you're back at your dorm after a schedule, hair tied up, hoodie on, eating cereal for dinner while watching a romcom you’ve seen a hundred times. your phone buzzes with messages from your members, random memes and updates. nothing special. just another quiet night.

until one of them says, “hey, did someone order food?”

you blink. “no?”

they go to check anyway, and you hear faint footsteps in the hallway. a small knock. then—quiet.

a beat.

another beat.

“um… you might wanna see this,” your member calls.

you shuffle to the door, cereal still in hand, until you freeze in the doorway. because standing there, wearing a black cap and a freaking mask under a hoodie is sunghoon.

real. in the flesh. looking at you like no time has passed.

your cereal bowl literally drops on the floor. he flinches. “whoa—are you okay?”

you don’t even answer. you launch yourself at him, arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

“you asshole,” you mumble. “you’re actually here?!”

“yeah,” he whispers. “i’m here. i’ve always been here.”

later that night, you’re on the rooftop again. the same one from before. the one with memories still stitched into the wind.

sunghoon brought your favorite drink, two snacks from the convenience store, and a blanket. he didn’t need to go overboard—he just needed to be there.

he pulls you into his side, both of you wrapped in that soft blanket, backs against the wall as the city lights flicker below.

“i missed you every single day,” you whisper.

he kisses your temple gently. “i never stopped loving you. even when i had to pretend.”

you look up at him. “so… what now?”

sunghoon turns toward you with the softest smile ever. “we keep going. even if we’re shadows in our own love story. even if the world never knows.”

“we’ll still have our little world?” you ask.

“always.”

he leans in and kisses you, slow and full of all the months you’ve both spent waiting. and in that moment, even the moon feels like it’s holding its breath for you two.

and your love does continue. hiding in plain sight. anonymous glances in music shows. strangers in public, lovesick fools in secrecy. hotel rooftop dates. secret messages in fan letters. little scribbles in notebooks. a hoodie that smells like the other person. staff members who pretend not to know. call signs – he'd call you yeowoo (fox or yeobo / honey), as cringe as that sounds, you call him pengsoo(nghoon) anyway. and a love that burns quietly, brightly—behind closed doors.

and maybe… just maybe… both of you’ll last.

a/n: that's the end. thankyou for readingggg

taglist: @kpoplover-19 @kpoppiesofinternet @hooni3luvs @stta-princess @softservesungie

@starry-eyed-bimbo @jessicaradreamer @btsreadss @butterflydemons @honnieswife

@synielve

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soulari · 10 months ago

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　　⏖　　♡　　pierrot　𓈒　　⁺

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bimboprincess111 · 2 years ago

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me n who ??

#my thots♡#lov this movie #buffalo 66 #films :P #cnc free use #rough cnc #cnc k!nk #abus3 me

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linolinoing · 1 year ago

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koala hug 🐨

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houseofpsychoticwomxn · 5 months ago

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⋰ ⋱✮ minors dni — suggestive ✮ ⋰ ⋱

♡ notes; been thinking about davids clark since the trailer — movie not out until july be damned, i had to write something

⋰ ⋱✮

Clark Kent is easily amused, throwing on a little red lace was more than enough to get a blushed reaction out of him, happily crawling into his lap as soon as his laptop was out of the way.

Superman is harder to read, harder to get ahold of. the second he was in the suit he gained a determination even the passionate, mild-mannered journalist couldn’t grasp.

Of course it didn’t usually make much difference to you, only really seeing the superhero side of him on a screen or in the paper the next day, but it was intriguing. call it curiosity, fantasy, greed even — you couldn’t help but wonder if that side of the man you cared so deeply for was doing more than just protecting you. what if he was holding something back?

you worked up the courage to say something about it when the familiar headline came across the tv; Superman saves! he looked as charming as ever, smiling and waving at the crowd of cameras and heads surrounding him. he was looking right at the camera intentionally, like he was looking right at you.

the blue and red covering him accompanied by the still somehow well-kept hair looked better every time you saw it. the reporters lucky enough to be there were going on and on about how incredible it was but truthfully it was hard to pay attention. the lack of breathlessness, the way he played it off as not a big deal like he didn’t just save the city again, the size of him towering over everyone else, all of it had you completely dazed.

you were all over him as soon as he stepped through the door, standing up on your toes to reach him for a kiss.

“hello to you, too.” a big hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you away from your impromptu attack on his own, tilting his head at you when you frowned in protest.

“I’m all sweaty and gross, let me take my suit off first, alright? then you can kiss me as much as you want. promise.” he punctuated his words with a kiss on your head, unnecessarily picking you up for just a second to move you out of the way before you tugged his wrist to stop him.

“wait, I actually- kinda wanted to talk to you about that.” you let go of his wrist as quickly as you’d grabbed it, anxiously clasping your hands together as he turned back towards you.

“about..?”

“that.” you pointed to his suit like it was obvious, nervously looking up at him.

“my suit? what about it?” you nodded, collecting the words in your head that seemed much more rational when he wasn’t standing over you.

“i think you should keep it on.” he didn’t seem to quite understand what you were getting at, large hand moving over his face in thought as you searched for a way to say it without flat out begging him to keep the suit on and bend you over.

“keep it on.. for you? like, here?” he looked around your shared apartment, eyes wandering over the living room like he was looking for clues until he got back to you, dancing around your words.

“just for a second? you’re always so.. i dunno, different, when you have it on.” you were speaking to him like you’d just gotten together this morning, your eyes stuck on the way the fabric shaped his arms.

“yeah, that’s sorta the point, honey. that’s just to protect my identity, to protect you.” he crossed his arms when he noticed the direction of your pointed gaze, daring you to say just what you meant.

“i know, but don’t you think that’s still you? like that’s just some deeper part of you?” it was glaringly obvious that you really just wanted him to throw you around a little bit — rough you up for the sake of your own filthy desires, but he wanted to give you time to rethink it, and just as bad, he wanted to hear you say it.

“what are you asking?” he stepped closer to you, boots not yet discarded by the door creaking the hard wood floor under them.

“i want to see it. to feel it- that part of you, i mean. i just.. don’t want you to feel like you have to hold anything back from me, clark.”

“sweetheart. that’s real nice but-“ he was trying to avoid the obvious; he didn’t want to really hurt you. it was hard enough avoiding deep bruises from his hard to manage strength just being clark, letting go completely seems almost irrational.

“you’re a lot stronger than me, i know. i can handle it. let me show you, please?” you took his steady hand, your own shakier than you’d like to admit — but you weren’t scared. you’d thought about it for so long it just excited you, clark was always so gentle and sweet with you — and you loved it! but he’d also do just about anything you set your pretty little mind on, and this was no exception.

“that’s really what you want?” he was just about as close as he could get now, listening intently to your heartbeat speeding up as his hands closed around your waist.

“please.”

#oh my god I love him #he’s such a sweetheart bless him #also I have zero clue how this would work logistically but ignore that <3 #also MEOW #this was longer than intended #oops!#˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ blurbs #clark kent #clark kent x reader #꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ clark k.#superman x reader #superman 2025 #clark kent x you #david corenswet x you #david corenswet superman #˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ thots

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kayla-claw · 8 months ago

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Agere userboxes!

(you can request userboxes by putting images in the ask box, it's Agere userboxes on different aesthetics. :3)

#~♡~k #userboxes #agere #agere sfw #agere caregiver #agere blog #agere community #sfw agere #age regression #age regressor #agere userboxes #request open

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orimuraa · 4 months ago

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── ⋆⋅ ೀ Until I found her - OT7

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆when the bad boys are down bad ⨾

۶ৎ bad boy!enhypen x fem!reader┆fluff┆enha is whipped, kisses, petnames┆wc 698

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: eaurahhh i need down bad enhypen so bad it's nawt even funny dawg

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

"doll face..how many are you putting in?" heeseung laughs lightly, trying not to move his head too much. "just sit still seungie," you answer, putting in the finishing touches. heeseung was sat on your shared bed, his signature, black, leather jacket adoring his body, while you carefully covered his hair in your favorite hair clips featuring sanrio, stars, flowers, hearts, and so much more. "done!" you smile, letting heeseung turn around to see the mirror. at one glance at his reflection, he just smiles, turning around to look at you. "angel, you're so precious."

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

jay never let anyone touch his car. it was his prized thing and always loved to show it off. so when you came along, stealing his heart and all, how could he say no to your decorations? within a swift blink of an eye, you had placed little stuffed animals all around his car, adding in car pillows and cute little stickers on the seats and steering wheel. at first, jay almost had a heart attack, but when he saw your bright smile, he just couldn't be mad. "oh princess, i love you so much," he says, kissing your lips and admiring his now bedazzled car.

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

"yunnieee, stop moving!" you whine, making an angry-pouty expression at your boyfriend. "i'm sorry, pretty," jake says, smiling at your adorable face. you had set up a bunch of pretty colors to paint jake's nails, deciding that he needed more colors than just black in his outfits. once you had carefully finished each nail, you smiled, staring down proudly at your work. "wow baby! it's..beautiful!" jake smiles brightly--something he only did around you. "they match well with the black," you snicker, scrunching your nose. jake takes this as an opportunity and leans in swiftly, leaving a small kiss on your nose. "my payment."

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

sunghoon had a motorcycle that he treasured almost as much as he treasured you. so when he came home to find you squatting down next to the bike, a bunch of sheets of stickers in your left hand and your right hand delicately placing them along his bike, he knew he loved you most. "angel? what are you doing?" he smiles softly, admiring the cute stickers. "your bike needed a makeover," you hum, still very focused on your stickers. sunghoon gently tilts your chin towards him for a minute, kissing your lips and smiling against them. "thank you, precious."

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

sunoo tended to have a lot of dark colored things, so naturally, you needed to fix that! you started with his black backpack, adding three key-chains to the zippers. they were brightly colored and stuck out very much against the black bag, but that was exactly what you wanted. "baby? was this you?" sunoo asks, walking in with his backpack in his hand and a small smile on his lips. "uh huh," you nod. "it was too boring," you add, simply looking at him with a smile. "well thank you for the glam," he smiles, leaning in and kissing your forehead.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

"wonnie!! i got us matching hats!!" you giggle, showing him the two little cat beanies you found at the mall earlier. jungwon usually opted for darker and "cooler" clothes, but when it came to you, he just couldn't refuse. upon seeing the fluffy cat beanies, jungwon just smiled, letting out a small laugh. "thank you princess, they look adorable." you know that deep down, underneath his bad boy persona, jungwon secretly loved things like this. but you wanted to gate keep it for a little longer. your boyfriend was just too cute to share.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村力

"little love, are you sure that that's natural?" ni-ki asks cautiously, staring at how clumpy his hair looked. "yes ki! i told you, that's just the dye! it'll wash out, i promise," you huff, turning off the timer. "okay now go wash it out," you say, helping ni-ki out of the trash bags you put him in so he wouldn't turn pink. "alright..i'm out," ni-ki says after finishing rinsing his hair. it was adorable. his base was still black but he let you had in streaks of pink, making him even more adorable. "hm, maybe i could get used to this."

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic

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lachatalovematcha · 23 days ago

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.·:*¨¨*:·.♡.·:*¨¨*:·.🌼⭐🍀🎀꒰ ა 𝓗𝑜͟𝑛͟𝑒͟𝑦͟ ໒ ꒱んーっ！ᐡ ̳- ‧̫ • ̳ᐡ◝✩ ۪ 𝇁 ݁ ˒�� ！⭐🖍️🍮(´-ㅅก`) ⊹ 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑑𝑦⠀🎀⭐️🐬︶︶︶୨୧ ︶✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🌈🥕⭐️₊⊹꒰ ⪩⪨ ꒱‧͙˚⁺‧͙⠀♡୨🍦🎀ৎ ࣪ ׅ ★ Ꮺ ִֶָ : 𓂃· ·̩☆🐇🎀⭐️･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♥

#⭐️🎀🌈 🎀 ⊹︵︵︵ ⊹ ୨୧ ⊹ ︵︵︵ ⊹ 🎀⭐️🎀🌈#☘️🎒 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚ ๑‧˚₊˚ ๑‧˚₊꒷︶🎀🌈︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊🥬🎀🌈.・✫・ !!･:*๑◕‿‿◕๑･:*ｌａｌａｃｈａｎ🌈⭐🌸 ⋅୧ ‧₊˚ ꒷︶🎀🌈︶꒷#⭐˖ ･ ·̩ ｡ ☆ ﾟ＊ 🌸 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ㅤ ララ月太陽ㅤㅤ꒰ 🍮 ꒱ ⠀⠀⠀⠀イ. ₊ ˚ ׅ ㅤ🥐 ｡˚ ◟⭐️🎀🌈⭐˖ ･ ·̩ ｡ ☆ ﾟ＊(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⭐️🚎🌈#🥞⭐️🎀·̩ ｡ ☆ ﾟ＊ ¸* .Ｃｈｅｋｉ☆Ｌｏｖｅ·̩ ｡ ☆ ﾟ＊ ¸* .🥞⭐️🎀#かわいい #유비키리 #YUB!KiRi #my gifs #kawaii #kawaiicore #otaku☆chan #᠉ ㅈ k-iddols #alt dol #aesthetic #webcore #weebcore #pastelcore

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honeyhaeya · 22 days ago

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(🔐)🖇 ༘ ⋆"How to Date Discreetly"

' ╰┈ "the day that i met you i started dreaming"

' ' 박성훈 x fem!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Kingston (Faye Webster)

♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: idol!sunghoon x idol!reader, ice prince x reckless rookie, secret & established relationship, enemies to lovers (kinda), fluff, smut (2nd part) – MDNI, angst (minor), a pinch of comedy ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: NSFW WARNINGS ON CHAPTER 2 (no smut on this part) ! smut, slight jealousy (m), language, detailed explicit scenes, angst (minor), reader on the pill (birth control), mutual hate that’s just actually horny confusion, mild hate (online), – ugh, theyre so in love, its intoxicating ✩‧₊˚ wc: 6472 –1/2 (mini series) ੈ♡ a/n: lol this is peak delusion. dont like, dont read. also, im open for constructive critisism but fact checks or logical expected outcome are out of the picture, come on yall, this is fanfiction. also, wtf. shit, i really made this? hoon is so fucking adorable, argue with me if you disagree :p . uploading part two tomorrow 5pm kst :) part two is up and posted *^★ playlist: kingston (faye webster), lowkey (niki), august (taylor swift), soft spot (keshi), always (daniel caesar), best part (daniel caesar & h.e.r.), almost is never enough (ariana grande & nathan sykes)

dating was never hard for you.

you breezed through high school with a boyfriend for every semester, each one a lesson in love. you weren’t heartless—you did like them. maybe not enough to cry after the breakups, but enough to smile while it lasted.

you were living the easy life. pretty, popular, and always in love with something… or someone.

but all of that changed on a thursday afternoon.

you’d just turned down a free meal from your friends (and it was their treat, ugh) because your sister texted you, “buy the skincare stuff i told you about. only from that store near the station. they run out fast.”

so there you were, dodging pedestrians, phone in hand, a bit annoyed, very hungry.

you sighed, glancing at your screen for the third time—no calls, no new texts.

and then you noticed her.

a woman, maybe mid-thirties, blazer and red lipstick, standing across the sidewalk and watching you.

your brows knit instinctively. weird. you kept walking.

but then she followed.

“excuse me,” she said, heels clicking as she caught up to you.

you turned. “uh… yes?”

she smiled, like she already knew you. “sorry if this is random. i’m a manager at (-) entertainment. and… have you ever thought of becoming an idol?”

you blinked.

“me?”

“you’ve got the face. the vibe. we’re recruiting trainees right now. it’s competitive, but i think you have a real shot.”

you stared. was this real? was she legit?

she pulled out a card, glossy and gold-trimmed. it looked expensive. official.

“call this number,” she said. “auditions are still required, but… i can pull a few strings.”

and just like that, she walked away.

later that night

you sat at the dinner table, card on your lap, phone in your hand, still processing.

“what’s that?” your sister asked, peering over.

“uh… a manager gave it to me,” you muttered. “she wants me to audition. to be a trainee.”

your mom nearly dropped her spoon.

your dad blinked like he misheard.

“a what now?” he asked.

your sister grabbed the card, eyes wide. “no way. (-) entertainment? they’re huge. that’s, like, the company.”

“it’s probably fake,” you said quickly. “i mean, i haven’t even danced in public before.”

your mom smiled gently. “if it’s something you’re curious about… we’ll support you.”

“what if i’m not good enough?”

“then you’ll try. and if it’s not for you, you’ll walk away knowing you tried.”

your sister nudged your arm. “do it, loser. if you debut, i can brag about you.”

you laughed, but your heart was pounding.

a few weeks later, you stood backstage after your audition, heart thumping, palms sweaty.

the evaluator handed your file to someone behind them.

“she’s raw,” the woman murmured. “but i like her. give her the green light.”

that night, you got the call.

you were officially a trainee.

you were late.

again.

you burst into the practice room, sneakers squeaking against the floor, hair sticking to your forehead. seven other trainees glanced up—some sympathetic, some smug. the trainer didn’t even look surprised.

but he did.

sunghoon.

he was leaning against the mirror, arms crossed, black sweatpants, white shirt clinging to him like he’d already been at it for hours. perfect posture. flawless control. and the most judgmental eyes you’ve ever seen.

“this is the third time this week,” he said flatly.

you rolled your eyes, dropping your bag. “thanks for counting, mom.”

a snicker echoed from someone in the back. the trainer sighed.

“five laps. now,” she barked.

you groaned and started running.

sunghoon turned to the trainer. “i don’t know why you waste time on people who can’t take this seriously.”

you stopped mid-lap, heart racing for a new reason.

“excuse me?”

he glanced at you, cool and unbothered. “you heard me.”

“you don’t even know me.”

“i don’t have to. it’s obvious.”

you wanted to throw your shoe at him. or maybe yourself—how dare he look like that while being such an ass?

“you know, not everyone got trained with a silver spoon in their mouth,” you snapped. “some of us have to catch up.”

his jaw clenched. oh. that got to him.

“then maybe catch up quietly.”

later that week

“again!” the vocal coach yelled. “you're off tempo!”

you bit your lip, trying to hide how winded you were. sunghoon stood beside you, breathing steady, voice perfect, hair annoyingly perfect.

when the session ended, you stayed behind, muttering the chorus under your breath, trying to fix it. your body ached, throat dry.

“you’re holding your breath wrong,” he said suddenly.

you jumped. “oh my god—can you not sneak up like that?”

he leaned against the doorframe, arms folded again. why was he always doing that?

“i’m not sneaking. you’re just slow.”

“and you’re just insufferable.”

he walked over, stopped behind you.

“breathe here,” he said, lightly tapping your stomach. “not up here.” he tapped your chest.

you tensed. “if you’re going to insult me again, don’t bother.”

he sighed. not annoyed. tired. softer than you expected.

“look. i don’t think you’re bad. i just think… you’re distracted.”

you turned, suspicious. “and what would you know about me?”

he shrugged. “nothing. yet.”

your heartbeat did the most annoying little skip.

“for next week’s evaluation,” the trainer said, scribbling on the board, “you’ll be performing in pairs.”

groans. whispers. panic.

sunghoon raised his hand, calm as ever. “do we get to choose partners?”

the trainer gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“no.”

and then she said your name.

and then she said his.

dead. silence.

sunghoon’s head snapped toward you. you were already staring, wide-eyed, mouth open like someone just told you santa wasn’t real and sunghoon would be your new stepdad.

“what?” you said.

“no.” he said at the same time.

the trainer arched a brow. “you two clearly have chemistry.”

“hate-mistry,” you muttered.

“professionalism, park,” she said. “and you, too, y/n. if either of you screws this up, you’re both out of the showcase.”

that shut you up real fast.

day one of practicing together

you stood at the center of the room, arms crossed, glaring at him.

he mirrored you, looking about three seconds from snapping.

“you need to follow my lead,” he said.

“and you need to drop your ego.”

“i’ve been training for years.”

“cool, i’ve been dancing since i was five.”

“not the same.”

“let’s find out.”

music blasted through the speaker—some upbeat, sexy number that had no business making this situation worse.

and yet—you kept up. every move. every beat. matching him step for step, hips snapping, body sharp. when you spun and ended up right in front of him, close enough to feel his breath—

he blinked. stunned. just a little.

you smirked.

“not bad,” you said.

his ears went pink.

day three

you both ran the routine again. and again. until sweat dripped from your jaw and your hair clung to your temples.

the trainer clapped slowly from behind.

“didn’t expect that,” she said. “y/n—your control improved. and sunghoon, i’m glad you finally look like you're dancing with someone instead of against them.”

your lips twitched.

he side-eyed you. “don’t let it go to your head.”

you grinned. “you’re just mad i’m good.”

he didn’t respond.

later, as you wiped your face with a towel, he walked over—less guarded. still annoyingly perfect.

“you really haven’t trained before?”

you shook your head. “just picked things up. why?”

he hesitated.

“…you’re a fast learner.”

you looked up, surprised.

“and you don’t hesitate. most new trainees wait for permission to mess up.”

you blinked. “…was that a compliment?”

he smirked, turning away. “no.”

(yes.)

the music cuts. your breath is caught somewhere between your chest and throat. sunghoon’s hand is still on your waist. your head is tilted back, lips just barely parted—and his eyes are on you. unreadable.

nobody moves.

"are they dating or something?" someone whispers too loudly.

"wow?" another trainee mutters.

the trainer exhales like she just witnessed art.

“that…” she starts, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “was beyond what i asked for.”

you try to catch your breath. your body still buzzing from the adrenaline. from the dance. from him.

you don’t look at sunghoon when you mutter, “told you i wasn’t just a pretty face.”

but you feel it—how his grip on you lingers just a beat too long before he lets go.

you’re surrounded before you can even step off the floor. compliments, questions, stares—all of it buzzing in your ears.

“that was insane—”

“i didn’t even know she could dance like that.”

“how did they sync so well?”

“isn’t she new?”

you brush past it. you’re used to attention, sure. but this? this is different. this is real.

you find your way to a bench, just as someone flops down next to you.

“you’re kind of a show-off,” yeonjun says, nudging your arm.

you scoff. “jealous?”

“nah, just impressed. you looked like you were born on stage.”

you grin. “thanks.”

he pauses. “...but dancing that close to sunghoon? bold move.”

you roll your eyes. “wasn’t like i had a choice.”

across the room, sunghoon watches. sighing.

“you good?” jay asks, sipping his water bottle.

sunghoon’s averted. “he’s touching her.”

jay raises an eyebrow, finding you and a man together on a bench. “you mean yeonjun?”

“who else would i mean?”

jay blinks. “you do realize you sound like a jealous boyfriend right now?”

sunghoon scoffs. “i’m not jealous.”

“sure.”

“i’m not,” he repeats, harsher this time.

you pass by just in time to catch that last line.

you freeze. look back. sunghoon doesn’t see you.

but now you’ve seen him. and something about that look on his face—it doesn’t match the version of him you’ve built in your head.

your knee twinges wrong during a routine—small misstep, sharp sting. you hiss, stumble, fall back on the floor.

the door creaks open.

you tense—expecting a trainer or staff. instead, it’s sunghoon. of course it’s sunghoon.

“what the hell are you doing here alone?” he asks, stepping in.

you glare. “i could ask you the same thing.”

he walks over anyway. crouches beside you. “you could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

“i didn’t,” you mutter, but the way you’re holding your leg says otherwise.

without another word, he grabs the first aid kit from the wall. wraps your knee like he’s done it a hundred times before.

you watch him. confused. curious. quiet.

“…you really care about this, huh?” he says eventually, not looking at you.

“about what?”

“training. performing. dancing.”

you shrug. “is that surprising?”

“a little.”

“why? because i don’t break my back trying to look perfect in front of the trainers?”

“because you make it look easy.”

you pause. “it’s not. i just don’t let anyone see when it’s hard.”

that makes him glance at you. just for a second. then—

“…you’re good, you know.”

you blink. “what?”

“you’re good. at this. i just didn’t want to admit it before.”

you laugh, breathless. “was that… a compliment?”

he stands up, tossing the bandage wrapper in the bin.

“don’t get used to it,” he mutters.

but he doesn’t leave.

and neither do you.

sunghoon was irritated. no—scratch that. he was pissed.

you were laughing at something yeonjun said, all wide-eyed and glossy-lipped, head tilted back like he just told the funniest joke in existence. maybe he did. maybe he didn’t. either way, hoon didn’t like the view from across the room.

he wasn’t sure what ticked him off more—the way your fingers brushed yeonjun’s arm, or the way yeonjun let them.

“you good?” jay asked beside him, noticing the stiff jaw, the tight grip on his water bottle.

“fine.”

a lie.

jay wasn’t stupid.

“you’ve got a weird definition of fine if it includes staring daggers at yeonjun’s face.”

sunghoon didn’t respond. just looked away. jay chuckled.

“she’s cute, huh.”

hoon scoffed. “please. she’s a walking red flag.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. too bold. too flirty. i don’t get how she always gets praise like that.”

jay grinned knowingly. “you mean, praise like she danced better than you yesterday?”

sunghoon gave him a flat look. jay laughed again. “man, just admit it. you like her.”

what he didn’t know was that you were behind the door, holding your breath. oh, you heard that. every word.

so the next day? you stepped on the gas.

“sunghoon,” you greeted, your voice all sugar and sin. “nice to see you glaring at me from across the room again. missed my face that much?”

his eyes narrowed. “you wish.”

“oh, i know you do,” you said with a smirk, stepping just a little too close. “you get jealous so easily. it’s kinda cute.”

“you’re delusional.”

“mm, maybe. but i’m also winning this little game we have.”

“what game?”

“oh, so you do admit we’re playing one.”

he didn’t answer. you leaned in, lips near his ear.

“catch up, sunghoon. or i’ll flirt with someone else again.”

the hallway was dark except for the faint glow bleeding under one door.

you already knew it was him.

you hesitated, then knocked—lightly, like a whisper.

inside, the music wasn’t playing. just silence. and when you opened the door and peeked in, you found him sitting with his back against the mirror, sweat-drenched shirt clinging to his skin, eyes heavy like they hadn’t rested in days.

he looked up. tired. annoyed, maybe.

“what do you want?”

you raised a brow. “aw, you missed me that much?”

he didn’t laugh. just huffed, dropping his head back against the mirror.

you walked in anyway.

“heard your team’s debut’s getting real close,” you said, plopping down next to him on the floor, knees brushing. “congrats.”

he didn’t respond.

you looked at him sideways, voice gentler now. “you okay?”

he nodded, but his fingers were twitchy—fiddling with his rings, bouncing his knee. anxious.

“you don’t look okay.”

he let out a breath. it shook a little.

you leaned forward, peeking at his face. “when was the last time you even slept?”

“don’t remember.”

you reached into your bag and tossed him a mini water bottle. “hydrate, superstar.”

he caught it, glanced at you. “why are you even here?”

you shrugged. “i could say i was worried. or that i heard music earlier and came to see what you were working on.”

you paused. “but honestly? you looked like a kicked puppy lately. i thought i’d put you out of your misery.”

he snorted. actually snorted.

progress.

you beamed. “there it is! that cute little laugh.”

“wasn’t a laugh.”

“was a laugh,” you said firmly. “i have excellent ears. dancer ears. and that? that was a giggle.”

he shook his head, hiding the smile pulling at his lips.

you fell quiet for a bit. then, in a softer voice:

“must be scary. having everything come at you at once. pressure. cameras. fans. and barely anyone who really knows what you’re going through.”

his jaw tensed.

you leaned your head back, mirroring him.

“i think about it sometimes. how that might be me in a year or two. training ‘til i drop. debuting and... still feeling alone.”

you glanced at him. “but hey. at least you’re not alone right now, right?”

sunghoon turned to you.

your face was relaxed. you weren’t being kind out of pity. this wasn’t charity. it was just... you.

for a second, he forgot about everything else.

“you’re really annoying, you know,” he mumbled.

“and yet you look like you’d die without me.”

he looked away, but not before you saw the smile he tried to hide again.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

the hallway was loud again. busy. debut-season chaos in full swing. managers barking schedules, stylists dragging suitcases, trainees practicing lines and formations in every corner.

you stood off to the side, sipping banana milk like you were just background noise.

“look alive, rookie,” someone called, nearly bumping into you.

you gave a lazy salute. “yes sir.”

just another day of not being noticed.

sunghoon passed by with his group—a cluster of stylists, staff, and busy energy. he didn’t look your way.

not that you cared.

but you didn't see the way he glanced back at you.

“people come and go,” you muttered, raising your banana milk like a toast. “that’s showbiz, baby.”

and then you tripped on a suitcase a stylist must've left there, you didn't see or too distracted to notice.

the banana milk went flying. your knees nearly kissed the floor. and when you looked up—sunghoon was right there.

of course he was.

he blinked down at you, eyebrows raised, and said nothing.

you, sprawled like a tragic mop, just smiled. “hi.”

he blinked, eyebrows raised. “you good?”

you held up the now half-empty drink. “well, the banana milk isn't.”

he bit back a smile. “that’s your third time tripping in front of me this month.”

you raised a brow. “you count my embarrassments now?”

“it's starting to feel intentional.”

you got up, brushing yourself off. “please, if i were trying to get your attention, i’d go bigger. maybe a cartwheel. or a dramatic monologue.”

“the floor dive was convincing.”

you smiled. “i like to keep it original.” then, a little quieter, “you’ve been busy lately.”

his smile faltered just slightly.

you waved it off. “no, seriously. you’ve got fans and press and a glam team. i’ve got... banana milk.”

“sounds like a solid support system.”

you laughed, but your smile faded when he glanced down the hall. his team was already moving.

“you should go,” you said. “hair and makeup’s waiting.”

he hesitated. “you sure?”

you nodded. “go be famous.”

he looked at you like he wanted to say more. but then he just nodded, and walked away.

you watched him leave. then looked down at your shoe.

still sticky.

“tragic,” you whispered.

a few days later

the vending machine blinked angrily at the girl in front of it.

the girl—probably thirteen, maybe fourteen—had her tiny fists clenched and was glaring up at the machine like it had insulted her ancestors.

you crouched beside her, trying not to laugh. “did the evil robot eat your money again?”

“yes!” she huffed. “i pressed the peach drink but it gave me black coffee! that’s not even close!”

you gasped, clutching your chest. “that’s betrayal. you’ve just been betrayed.”

“i don’t even like coffee! It tastes like burnt sadness!”

you dramatically nodded. “we must avenge you.”

she grinned. “you think I can sue?”

“only if you’ve got a lawyer. or at least a really angry eonni (older sister) .”

she tilted her head. “you’ll do.”

at that moment, you kicked the machine gently (totally just a little tap, you’re not trying to go viral for violence). and... silence. the drink didn't fall. awkward.

the little girl snorted, holding her laugh with all her might.

you smiled, laughing under your breath and kicking the vending machine again, a little love tap and—miraculously—the peach drink clunked down into the bin.

both of you screamed.

“victory!!” “you’re a vending machine master!”

you laughed. “told you i can save you.”

a low chuckle behind you made you freeze.

you turned, slow-motion style, to see sunghoon standing there with a water bottle. heeseung stood beside him, sweaty from practice and grinning.

heeseung gave a thumbs-up. “iconic vending machine diplomacy.”

sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “burnt sadness, huh?”

you stood up straight. “i—she didn’t mean—”

“she meant it,” the girl said proudly, sipping her drink. “she says it tastes like regret in a cup.”

you stared at her, betrayed. “you were supposed to have my back.”

sunghoon laughed. like, really laughed. the kind that made your stomach twist a little.

“didn’t know you were mentoring now.”

you shrugged. “somebody’s gotta fight for the little ones. didn't know you were keeping tabs on me now.”

heeseung grabbed his drink, still chuckling. “i’m hanging out here more often.”

sunghoon lingered, eyes still on you. “you’re good with kids.”

you blinked. “oh.”

he smiled, soft and small, before heading off. “try not to start a vending machine riot next time.”

you stood there, stuck.

the girl tugged your sleeve. “...you like him, huh?”

you looked down at her. “no idea what you’re talking about.”

she narrowed her eyes. “peach tea never lies.”

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

“i feel like i keep seeing her everywhere lately,” sunghoon said later, on their way back to the practice room.

heeseung gave him a look. “more like you keep noticing her.”

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. just stared ahead, thoughtful.

heeseung nudged him. “you’re smiling, dude.”

sunghoon wiped the smile off his face immediately. “no, i’m not.”

“you’re so obvious.”

he didn’t say anything for a while.

but later, he’d find himself glancing down hallways a little more. wondering if banana milk girl would be there.

just... wondering.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

you hadn’t cried in weeks. not since training got serious.

but tonight? the moment the studio door clicked shut behind you, the tears came.

your hands were sore. your voice was gone. and no matter how hard you trained, you still felt behind—like everyone else had a head start and you were just catching up, slipping on a treadmill that wouldn't stop.

the mirror felt cruel. it always did when you weren’t at your best.

and then—

a knock. soft, careful.

you wiped your face fast, spinning around like nothing happened. “practice room’s full. try the one on the second floor.”

“already did.”

your breath hitched.

sunghoon stood in the doorway, hoodie pulled over his head, cap low. casual. unbothered. he should be prepping for stage performances, meetings, shoots—life after debut.

but he was here.

you blinked. “aren’t you like, super busy?”

he shrugged, stepping in. “don’t tell my manager.”

you let out a small laugh. it cracked.

he sat beside you like he belonged there. like no time had passed.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he said softly.

“i’ve been busy.”

“so have i.”

you didn’t say anything.

he nudged you. “talk to me.”

you bit your cheek. “what’s there to talk about?”

he looked at you, really looked at you.

“you’re scared.”

you looked away. “i’m not.”

“you are.” he reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingered just a second longer. “i was too.”

you met his eyes. they weren’t teasing or smug. just... warm.

“hoon, i’m the last trainee to enter and they expect me to keep up with girls who’ve been doing this for years. i feel like i’m constantly proving that i deserve to be here.”

“you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“except everyone.”

he took your hand—held it. his thumb brushed yours like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

“you think i didn’t feel the same before i debuted?” he asked, voice hushed. “you think i don’t still feel like that sometimes? like i’m faking it, or like i’m not enough?”

you stared at him.

“you’re more than enough,” he said. “you were the only one who saw me before all this. let me be that for you now.”

and just like that, the tears were back. but you didn’t hide this time.

you leaned into him. he let you. his arms came around you like a shield, like home, like this was always meant to happen.

“this doesn’t mean i’m falling for you or anything,” you mumbled into his chest.

he smiled against your hair. “sure. and i’m not hopelessly in love with you either.” it was a lie.

ONE MONTH LATER

your body ached. your shirt clung to your back. the playlist on the studio speakers had looped for the third time now, but you weren’t done yet. not even close.

you wiped sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, hair tied up haphazardly like your last brain cell had done it for you. two turns, down, pop—reset. again.

then the studio door opened.

you blinked, already preparing to snap at whoever thought now was a great time to interrupt—only to freeze.

sunghoon.

cap on. mask half-down. that dumb post-debut glow still clinging to him like glitter. he looked like a k-drama lead showing up in your lowest moment with no right to be that good-looking.

you squinted. “are you... lost?”

he didn’t smile.

he stepped in, quiet. closed the door behind him. took a breath.

“go on,” you said, gesturing vaguely at your unfinished choreo. “you came to judge my pirouettes or what?”

he scratched the back of his neck. “actually…”

pause.

“i wanted to ask you something.”

you raised a brow, waiting. arms crossed. heart racing.

“do you...” he hesitated, then stepped closer. “wanna go out with me?”

you blinked.

was he out of his damn mind?

you looked down at yourself. hair in chaos. sweat-drenched shirt. left sock halfway sliding off. “like... right now?”

he laughed softly, but there was a nervous tremble to it. “no. i mean... soon. when you’re free. like, a real date. just us.”

you stared at him. the air felt too quiet.

he looked serious. almost nervous. not like the usual sarcastic, biting sunghoon who annoyed you daily—this was the one who held your hand when no one else was looking. the one who showed up when you were breaking.

you let out a long sigh, walking past him to grab your water bottle. you took a sip. gave him a look.

“sunghoon,” you said flatly, “you realize i’m one month away from possibly debuting through a televised hunger game for trainees, right?”

he gave you a sheepish smile. “yeah.”

“and you’re busy being an idol or whatever.”

“also yeah.”

you raised an eyebrow. “then why now?”

he didn’t flinch. “because I like you.”

…

you stared at him. like, really stared. and god—he was really standing there. asking you out while you looked like a dehydrated noodle. and it should’ve been dumb. it should’ve been ill-timed.

but he meant it. that was the stupid part.

you sighed again, dramatic. wiped your face.

then, you looked up at him with a small smirk.

“fine,” you said, shrugging. “one date.”

his eyes lit up.

“but if it sucks, I’m ghosting you.”

“deal.”

you narrowed your eyes. “and you’re paying.”

“always.”

“and no kissing—unless I say so.”

he grinned. “so you will say so.”

“shut up,” you muttered, tossing your towel at him—and missing.

ONE WEEK LATER

first secret date

you almost laughed when you saw him.

cap pulled down low. hoodie up. mask on. sunglasses too. like he was about to rob the convenience store instead of take you on a date.

he looked left, then right. then spotted you.

and you—well.

you were in simple jeans, a tucked white tee, lowkey makeup, and your hair done just enough to look effortlessly good. no flash. no glam. just enough to look soft and gorgeously dangerous.

sunghoon blinked under his cap. “wow.”

you tilted your head. “wow?”

“i thought we said casual.”

you smirked. “i am casual.”

he blinked again. “casual doesn’t usually knock the air outta someone’s lungs.”

you bit your lip to hide the smile. “then breathe better.”

he laughed under his mask, tugging it down slightly as you both started walking. he had chosen a small side street near the han river, early evening, sun soft in the sky. not too crowded. not too exposed.

it wasn’t fancy. no candlelit tables. no bouquets. just two kids sneaking time together between a debut and a dream.

and somehow, it was perfect.

“are you really allowed out?” you asked, nudging him. “i don’t wanna be the reason you get exiled from your group.”

he scoffed. “i’ve snuck out for worse.”

you squinted. “like what?”

“like ramen.”

you cackled. “you’re risking your career for cup noodles?”

“if they’re spicy enough, yeah.”

you rolled your eyes, but your hand brushed against his as you walked. he noticed. he didn’t say anything—but he didn’t move it away either.

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

later, on a park bench near the river

you sat next to him, knees barely touching. the sun had dipped lower now, painting the water gold.

he was quiet.

so were you.

until—

“you know,” he said, “i wasn’t sure this would work.”

you looked at him.

“i’m busy. you’re about to be busier. and all the pressure—fans, survival shows, cameras…” he exhaled. “we’re barely even normal people anymore.”

you nodded slowly, biting your lip. “so… why’d you ask me out then?”

he looked at you.

“because even when I’m not sure about anything else… I’m sure about you.”

you blinked.

okay. rude.

he was not allowed to drop lines like that while you were emotionally vulnerable, sweaty from practice last night, and wearing your second best sneakers.

you tried to play it off, heart punching your ribs. “you’ve been practicing that in the mirror, huh?”

he grinned. “nah. you’re just that inspiring.”

you stared at him, lips twitching.

then, casually, you reached over and hooked your pinky with his.

that was it.

that was all.

he squeezed gently.

after the date — back at the dorms

you got a text. just as you slipped into the trainee dorm’s hallway.

sunghoon: home safe? you: just got in. you? sunghoon: still outside. walking around like a loser who just got his crush to say yes you: you are a loser. but like. a cute one i guess sunghoon: say that again i’ll screenshot it you: goodnight, hoonie sunghoon: night, pretty girl.

you stared at the screen, face flushed.

then threw your pillow at the bed and let out a scream into your blanket.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

you barely made it through the last eight-count. your legs were jelly, your ponytail was falling apart, and your throat was screaming for water—but more than anything, your brain was fried. you didn’t even notice someone step into the practice room until you heard a low, familiar voice.

“psst. trainee of the year.”

you turned, and there he was.

sunghoon.

with a hoodie pulled up and a mischievous glint in his eye… holding a snack-sized bag of chips and a chocolate bar like they were illegal contraband.

you blinked. “hoon—what are you doing here?!”

he smirked. “looking out for someone who forgot how to rest.”

“i’m on a diet,” you whispered, eyeing the chocolate like it was your long-lost lover.

he stepped closer. “then pretend i didn’t bring snacks. just come with me for five minutes.”

you followed him to the vending machine hallway—dead center between the boys’ and girls’ dorm floors. no cctv. no trainers.

just buzzing machines, flickering fluorescent light, and the sound of your heart thudding louder than it should.

he leaned against the wall, opening the chocolate and breaking off a square.

you stared at it.

“i said i’m on a diet.”

“i said i don’t care.” he offered it again.

you took it. obviously.

a beat of silence passed. then another. you sighed.

“i’ve never dated someone in secret before,” you mumbled, fingers fiddling with the wrapper. “do you think it’ll work out?”

sunghoon didn’t hesitate.

“I’m actually an expert in secrets…” he said, tone suddenly lower, softer.

he leaned in, closing the already-small space between you.

“...especially dating.”

your breath hitched.

he was close—too close—his scent all cozy detergent and warm skin, his lips ghosting a little too close to your cheek.

“i’ll teach you how.”

you were in the middle of laughing—like, full-on cracking up with the other trainees in the dance room. someone made a joke about one of the trainers being secretly in love with their reflection, and you had tears in your eyes.

you didn’t even realize your phone buzzed until you were finally alone, tying your hair up again, everyone else already off to shower or sleep.

sunghoon: u free? sunghoon: dance room. come before i fall asleep on the floor.

you stared. then blinked. then immediately bolted.

the second you opened the door to his group’s practice room, you saw him sitting there on the floor, back against the mirror, head tilted up like he’d been waiting hours.

he looked up.

“hey.”

just that one word and you were melting. it’s been weeks. actual weeks. and yet, there he was—same hoodie, same tired smile, same boy who made you forget how to breathe.

you walked in slowly. “so you miss me, huh?”

he scoffed, but the smile said it all.

“i’m not gonna lie. i might’ve forgotten what you looked like.”

“rude.”

“well, i remember now.” his eyes swept over you.

you rolled your eyes, trying not to combust.

you sat next to him, shoulders barely touching, and it was quiet for a second. not awkward. just… warm.

“you’ve been working hard,” you said quietly.

“you too,” he murmured. “i see it in the practice logs.”

you raised a brow. “you stalk me?”

he smirked. “maybe.”

he stood up a little while later, stretched, then turned to you again.

“come here.”

“why?”

“just—” he waved you over.

you got up, brushing imaginary dust off your sweatpants. “if you prank me, i swear—”

“i’m not. just come.”

he walked backward, tugging you gently by the wrist until you both slipped behind the tall mirror divider that split the practice room—probably put there for storage or stage simulation. barely any light. no one would check there.

you opened your mouth to ask what is this, but he was already leaning in.

and then—

footsteps.

two voices. familiar.

heeseung. jake.

you froze. sunghoon cursed under his breath, then pulled you closer—closer—until your back hit the mirror and his body shielded you completely.

your heart did a full somersault.

“shhh,” he whispered, breath fanning across your ear. “they’re just grabbing their stuff.”

heeseung’s voice echoed faintly. “you think sunghoon left already?”

“probably. dude’s always staying too long.”

you held your breath, heartbeat racing. he was so close. his hands rested on either side of your head, and he kept glancing down at you like he might actually—

once the door shut and the voices faded, silence fell.

you stared at him.

he stared right back.

then he grinned.

“i wasn’t gonna kiss you, you know.”

“…right.”

“…but now i kind of want to.”

you raised a brow. “you sure about that? we haven’t even had a second date.”

“so?” he whispered, leaning in again. “we’re behind a mirror. does it count?”

you were this close to shoving him playfully, but your breath hitched when he tilted his head just enough.

his lips brushed yours.

soft. tentative.

dangerous.

but then you kissed him back.

just once. quick. stupid. electric.

you pulled away with a shaky breath. “you’re so annoying.”

“you like it.”

“i hate it.”

he grinned. “i’ll teach you how.”

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

the call started with you lying flat on your bed, hair down, face fresh from a shower, hoodie oversized and barely clinging to one shoulder.

“you look tired,” you mumbled, frowning into the screen.

sunghoon was on his dorm bed too, hair pushed back with a headband, cheeks still flushed from rehearsal. “you look pretty.”

you blinked. “that’s not the point—”

“but it’s true,” he said, smiling. “also. i am tired. i miss you.”

you flopped your head dramatically against your pillow. “ugh, i miss you too. stupid idol schedules.”

he laughed. then sighed. then just stared at you for a second longer than necessary.

the silence was comfortable. until your phone buzzed.

you glanced at the notification. trainee gc.

someone: you looked cool in practice today someone else: your form’s improved a lot lately and then: wanna hangout sometime? just chill, talk about training n stuff?

sunghoon raised a brow. “who’s that?”

you snorted, a little too amused. “hm? just the group chat.”

“your phone’s lighting up a lot,” he said, too casually.

you tilted your screen to the side, showing the flood of not-so-subtle messages.

sunghoon squinted. “that guy. the one who complimented your jumps last time. he’s the one who sent the hangout thing, right?”

you blinked slowly. “hoon. are you jealous?”

“no,” he lied, immediately, like a liar.

“you so are.”

“i’m not,” he repeated, suddenly invested in adjusting the blanket on his lap.

you smirked. “you’re sulking.”

he didn’t respond.

“hoon~”

“i’m just saying,” he said, voice all pouty now, “he doesn’t even stretch properly before practice. what does he know.”

you wheezed.

“oh my god.”

“i’m just—i’m just watching out for you, okay?” he said, flustered, biting his lip. “i don’t like how they act around you.”

you rolled onto your back, giggling into your sleeve.

“you’re adorable.”

“no, i’m serious,” he grumbled. “i can’t even talk to you in public, but they’re out here throwing compliments like confetti.”

you peeked at the screen again. his lips were pursed. eyes narrowed. sulk level: maximum.

you reached out like you could actually pinch his cheek through the screen.

“you know you’re the only one i want to hear compliments from, right?”

his gaze softened.

“...really?”

“really,” you said, smiling. “but also, you’re kinda hot when you’re jealous. not gonna lie.”

he hid his face in his hoodie.

“stop.”

“never.”

you grinned.

“hoooon,” you whined through the screen, “can’t you just teleport here? like now? please? i’ll pay.”

he snorted. “what with? ramen and protein bars?”

“yes.”

he smiled, soft and lazy, eyes crinkling. “i wish i could.”

“me too.”

your voice had dropped, just a little. tired. yearning. and his fingers twitched like he wished he could reach through the screen and pull you into his chest.

but then—

“hyung! dinner’s ready!”

jungwon’s voice, right outside his door.

sunghoon groaned, rolling onto his side with a quiet, “just five more minutes!”

“are you still on call with y/n?” jungwon asked, then cracked the door open like he already knew the answer.

sunghoon quickly angled the phone to his chest, like a whole dad caught texting his crush in middle school.

but jungwon just leaned in and waved toward the screen. “hi, y/n!”

“oh my god,” you said, hiding your face with a hand, laughing. “hi wonnie.”

then sunoo appeared in the hallway too, leaning over jungwon’s shoulder. “tell her i say hi too!”

“i did already!” jungwon argued.

niki popped in last, chewing on something. “you’re not slick, hyung. we all know you’ve been heart-eyes emoji for like, three months now.”

sunghoon nearly died on the spot.

“get out,” he hissed.

“we’re going,” sunoo grinned. “but don’t kiss through the screen or anything. the wi-fi’s lagging.”

and they vanished.

you wheezed. “your roommates are literally chaos.”

“they’re menaces.”

“but cute menaces.”

“fine,” he mumbled, trying not to smile again. “but i’m the cutest, right?”

“you’re the cutest and the hottest.”

“and you’re the reason my heart’s doing cardio without moving.”

you blinked. “that was so cheesy.”

“i know,” he grinned.

a few nights later – secret car hangout edition

he picked you up in a manager’s car, hoodie low, cap on, mask covering most of his face. when you slid into the front seat, your eyes met and for a second neither of you said anything.

then you both burst into giggles like schoolkids sneaking out past curfew.

“you’re insane,” you whispered, shutting the door.

“you’re prettier in person,” he whispered back.

“you’re biased.”

“i’m in love.”

you froze. blinked. stared at him.

he blinked back, wide-eyed. “i mean—i—i said that out loud, didn’t i.”

you bit your lip, suddenly warm.

“yeah,” you said. “but… same.”

his hand reached for yours between the seats. fingers laced. thumbs brushing.

you two just sat there for a while. soft music playing. headlights passing. the world rushing around you, but in here, time stilled.

“you’re leaving again tomorrow?” you asked.

he nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “fanmeet. then music show. then filming.”

“you’re everywhere.”

“except here,” he murmured. “with you.”

your heart tugged.

“then make the most of tonight.”

he turned to look at you.

eyes locked.

“yeah?” he whispered.

you nodded.

then you climbed over the center console like it was nothing, and next thing you knew, you were on his lap, hoodie and all, faces close, lips brushing. giggling quietly, almost getting caught when a van drove past and made the headlights flash inside.

you kissed like the world didn’t know.

you laughed like no one could hear.

and when he pulled back, forehead pressed to yours, breath warm, he whispered—

“i’ll teach you how.”

then just like that, you two were back to kissing. he kept a hand on your chin to angle your head in the perfect position. his tongue slipping in your lips, tasting you like he'll never get a chance to again.

and that's when you two made out recklessly in the car, breath heavy, and in love.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

the survival show started before either of you could even process it.

you were waking up at 5 a.m., rehearsing until midnight, crash-napping in dance studios, living off energy drinks and willpower.

sunghoon was across the world—london, tokyo, la, award shows, en-oclock, fanmeets, and endless nights of soundchecks.

the phone calls slowed.

the messages became one-word replies.

then one-sided.

then nothing.

but not because you stopped caring.

it was just life.

it was debut season.

dreams were happening in real time.

you both were flying so fast that you didn’t even realize you were flying past each other.

months later

you were back. not just in seoul, not just in the same time zone—but here.

and you were debuting.

you made it into the final group.

four girls. you were the visual, the ace, the one people couldn’t stop looking at.

and the moment you saw his name pop up on your schedule—same venue, different floors—you knew.

you had to see him.

so you did.

your steps were slow but steady. nerves in your chest like fireworks waiting to go off.

he looked up when you entered the hallway. paused.

you smiled.

his mouth parted. just a little.

then you ran—fast, too fast—and wrapped your arms around his middle like you were afraid he’d disappear again.

his arms came around you instantly. like muscle memory. like home.

“i made it,” you whispered into his chest, voice trembling.

he didn’t say anything at first. just held you tighter.

then—

“i know,” he said quietly.

you blinked up at him.

and he smiled, eyes a little glassy, cheeks a little pink. “i saw every performance.”

you laughed through your tears. “you did?”

“mhm.” he nodded. “even the boot camp episode. and your level test. and the one where you cried after your vocals cracked—”

“shut up.”

“i cried too.”

“shut up.”

“i saved the fancam.”

you slapped his shoulder, but your grin couldn’t be wiped off.

“and i saw yours,” you whispered, pressing your palm to his chest like you could feel all the places he grew while you were away. “every award. every encore. every fancam. you were so… amazing.”

“you too,” he murmured. “we both made it.”

and for a second, it didn’t matter that the world was watching.

that you had bodyguards and managers and contracts now.

that there were rules and rumors and cameras always watching.

because right here, in this small hallway of a massive building—

it was just the two of you again.

“missed you,” you said.

“teach me how to get over you,” he whispered.

and you shook your head.

“no,” you whispered back. “i’ll teach you how to keep me.”

a/n: posting part 2 tomorrow 5pm kst ! if you want to be tagged, please reblog so you can be added (that would help me much too hh). i already have a reserved taglist, so if you want to register, just click my forms :>> loveyallsosomuchh

chapter 2 is posted !

taglist: @kpoplover-19 @kpoppiesofinternet

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itschoahyuna · 1 year ago

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˖𓄰 ֗ ׅ˖་⊹. 🎀🌟🌈˖𓄰 ֗ ׅ˖་⊹. 🎀🌟🌈˖𓄰 ֗ ׅ˖་⊹. 🎀🌟🌈

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pillxw-prince · 2 years ago

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ⓘ this user was made to take cock ♡

#ftm nsft #mlm nsft #transmasc nsft #trans nsft #queer nsft #nblm nsft #ftm sub #ftm bottom #pillxw talks #k: cockwarming #k: so full #k: dp #i wanna be stuffed with cock(s) so fucking bad ♡

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dejwrld · 1 year ago

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⤷‧₊˚ could you imagine having a wet dream about your hot neighbor?

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, written with black reader in mind, pet names (good girl), oral fixation, oral (f.receiving), dirty talk, biting kink, backshots/doggystyle position, spanking, anal play (i mean he put a thumb in it that's it), marking kink, profanity, i think we should write smut about men in explicit mangas some more, mentions of a wet dream, wet dream is in italics, slight pervert!reader, repost from old account, mdni

You couldn't help but stare at him when you saw him. You remembered how your eyes lit up with curiosity seeing him move into the apartment next to yours. An apartment with many tenants who moved in and soon quickly moved out. A rumor traveled around that a ghost resided in that apartment, but you never cared to gossip about said rumor. You just went to work and came home. It was a sad cycle that you’ve done Monday through Friday. Occasionally when you would be leaving for work, you'd see him. The bags under his eyes are as heavy as he’s taking his trash out to put into the apartment’s trash bin. His whole demeanor oozed sex appeal even though he would be the type of man your parents would usher you to stay away from.

He was a handsome man, and when you laid down to sleep, you only seethed in jealousy, hearing faint moans through the thin walls. A regular neighbor would march over and bang on the door to tell their neighbor to keep it down—but with you, it felt like your body was stuck. You stared at the ceiling indulging in the sound of the way he pleasured this woman. That jealous pit twists in your stomach, realizing that you have most likely been crushing on a taken man this whole time. But it didn’t make sense, you hadn’t seen a woman enter or exit his place when you were around. Either or, you still thought that it should have been you to have the privilege of cooing out his name the way this woman was.

You could do better. You know you can.

You may have been in a significant drought, but you were positive your plush lips could kiss him better. Your mouth could wrap around his cock better. You could move your hips while riding him better. But then again, this woman had to have something you didn’t if he was making her feel like this every night.

You took your pillow over your head to scream into it. The heated feeling between your thighs caused you to roll over on your side to force yourself to sleep. You were only torturing yourself by continuing to be a pervert and listening to him pleasure another woman. Before you could utter a string of complaints to yourself, your body finally relaxed for you to fall into a deep slumber—a poor attempt at ignoring the walls through the paper-thin walls.

Your body stirred in your sleep as you felt something under the thin lilac-colored duvet that covered your body. You felt something wet upon your thighs as if somebody was nibbling on the flesh on the inside area of your thighs. You attempted to squirm tiredly, but the grip upon you grew tighter. With your hand rubbing the sleep out of your eye, you lifted the duvet, and your eyes nearly bulged out your head seeing him. His eyes filled with so much hunger it sent a chill down your spine. With the oversized t-shirt you usually sleep in pushed up to your waist, you watched as the flat of his tongue glided upward and downward on the clothed part of where your pussy lips were. Even though your underwear was blocking the pleasure feeling of his tongue—you still felt yourself grow wet at the feeling.

Your next-door neighbor Totsumoto Yuushi didn’t waste any time dragging your fusion-colored panties down your smooth legs to get a taste of you. The flat of his tongue dragged across your puffy pussy lips just to finally relinquish in the taste of you. His darkened eyes met with yours through the little light that shimmered through the window from the moon. You relaxed in his touch as soon as you felt the first flicker on your clit. Your breathing hitches in your throat before you cough up moans and your fingers tangle into his black hair. Before your eyes lolly in the back of your head, the last glimpse you got was of Totsumoto’s eyes shifting close as he finally wanted to focus on his main task.

Totsumoto’s tongue glides around the entrance of your drooling cunt, and he even could feel you clench, feeling him teasing you. Your thighs were seizing close due to the intense feeling of him between your thighs, but he just pinned them back open. You even heard him moan as he continued to eat his meal. He didn’t leave a drop of slick for him not to savor. The blood rushing to his cock with each kitten lick he’s making on your pussy or each flicker and suck on your sensitive bud. Your juices stained his face, but he could care less when it was a mouthwatering meal right before him.

Your body arched off the mattress as you failed to run away from your pending orgasm. Your stomach began to form the most satisfying knots for Totsumoto to untie, but he pulled it away. He shortly let his lips drag kisses and bites on the inside of your thighs. He removed himself away from your pussy with a satisfying pop.

“I want you to cum on this dick, Y/N.” His voice rasps. “I know you want the same thing, right?” Totsumoto tilts his head to the side slightly as if he’s letting his head rest on your bite marks-covered thigh, and his eyes never stop looking at you.

Totsumoto’s words hit you like a truck with each continued kiss and bite. Your brain felt like complete mush as you realized he snatched your orgasm away from you in the blink of an eye. With his cock on hard, he kisses up your body until his face is just inches away from yours. Him being on top of you but also sure not to squash you. You could feel his cock on the inside of your thigh. Just by how it felt—you could tell it was fat. You’ve had your perverted thoughts during a hot morning imagining how his cock looked. Was it long? Was it girthy? Was he circumcised? How pretty was the tip? You’ve asked yourself that constantly.

He’ll inch closer to your lips. Through your stare of desperation for him, you watched him lick his lips—savoring in the aftertaste of your pussy before he spoke once more, “How’d you want it? Since you’ve been a good girl while I was between your thighs….”

Teasingly, he’s letting his teeth nibble on your plump lower lip instead of giving you the satisfaction of a heated kiss.

“I’ll let you choose.” He adds.

And that’s how you whine up on all fours with a perfect arch and your cunt eager to swallow Totsumoto’s cock. You figured that if you were to do missionary, you’d become cock drunk for the gentleman immediately. His callous hands grabbed at your waist, dragging you closer to him; you could feel the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. “Just relax, pretty, sure you fit around me perfectly,” Totsumoto assured.

He’s collecting saliva in his hand to coat his girthy cock with, even though he could see how wet you were for him through his dark locs that fell in his face. His hand gripped your waist, similar to how a person would with some bike handles. He completely braced himself for the waterfall he was about to experience. First, he’s shoving his tip in—slowly, just so you can get used to it, savor it. A wonderful feeling he could get used to. Second, he’s gradually shoving move of his cock inside you. This time he’s taking note of how your manicured fingers grasped at the sheets.

“I thought you could take my cock, hm?” He’ll teasingly ask.

You couldn’t even answer his question before he’s immediately plowing forward. No regard for getting used to his size when the wet cunt in between your thighs was enthusiastic for more. You’ll moan out his name like a song you knew from heart. The lewd sound of heated skin slapping against each other adding on to your tune of moans. It created a sweet melody that Totsumoto enjoyed hearing. It motivated him to fuck just a little better, a little harder.

Your pillow was beginning to stain with your salty tears with each ram of his hips. You only had the opportunity to let out broken moans that bounced upon the thin walls of your bedroom. Your hand went back behind you to slow down his abrupt thrusting, but that only led to him swatting your hand away as if it were a fruit fly flying around a garbage can. At this point, you had lost count of how many times the two of you had cum. The sticky mess that imprinted your thighs didn’t stop Totsumoto from continuing what he was doing. The white ring that decorated his cock only turned him on even more. His eyes lazily droop to gaze at your pussy, swallowing his cock. It was an intoxicating feeling how you were clutching around him. Which each pull back on his cock—he could feel you tremble. Hurriedly, wanting to run away from his jabs but ever so eager for him to fill you up some more.

“You were waiting to feel my cock weren’t you?” He growled lowly. He noticed you didn’t answer his question, only purring out desperate moans. The dark-haired male took that as a challenge. His large hands that once were on your plush love handles would press down your back, ensuring that you wouldn’t break the perfect arch.

Totsumoto’s fingertips trace alongside the flesh of your ass. His hand slaps at it, and his actions' ripple effect causes his cock to twitch inside you. His body felt like he was running a fever so hot that he could most likely faint. His jet-black strands of hair were sticking to his sweat-coated forward, but even if his hair drooped low in front of his intoxicating deadpan eyes—he still couldn’t take them away from the mess between the two of your bodies. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy as his body finally overheated due to his lewd actions.

You knew that the older gentleman was so close to cumming. His grip on your waist tightens, completely entrapping you from running away from his brash thrusting. It took you by shock feeling his thumb insert instantly into your asshole. Your body tensed up, and he leaned down to place the sloppiest set of kisses on your back. “It’s just a thumb unless you want it to be something else.” He hungrily said.

His words sent a frightening yet exhilarating chill down your spine. Your fingers grasped the crumpled sheets on your mattress as you met his thrusting halfway until the both of you were a cumming mess. You’ve had your fair share of sleeping with men. From horrible hookups to the best lovemaking, no one ever made you feel like this when you were orgasming. You felt like you were on the highest cloud attempting to climb down all by yourself. Your limbs quivered with each sloppy cum coated slam upon your ass, and your moans became so frantic that someone would have thought you were speaking in tongue. The messy mess that imprinted the two of your skin wasn’t as bad as the mess when his cock hesitantly removed itself from you. Totsumoto’s thick cum dripped out of your cunt as he let your body collapse on the mattress below you like a personal used fleshlight. You could hear his breathing returning to normal as he let his fingertips drag alongside your sweat-coated body parts.

“Sleep tight. You’re going to need it for when I return.” His words came out like a whisper.

When his fingertips left your body, you felt cold without his touch. You were utterly addicted to his touch, and you needed more. However, your shaken limbs and depleted body said otherwise.

Exhaustion overcame your body as the only thing that could be heard in the room was the sound of you trying to control your breathing. Your eyes became droopy, and you realized that he just gave you the best dick you could imagine, that you instantly fell into a deep slumber.

The annoying sound of your alarm caused your eyes to open instantly. Your phone was practically yelling at you to get up to start your day. When you pressed the snooze button on your phone, you glanced at the time. You still have a couple more minutes—perhaps you can attempt to fall asleep to continue the dream. Your panties already were damp, and your nipples hardened in anticipation due to it, but no matter how comfortable you got or how tightly squeezed shut your eyes were—you couldn’t fall back into that deep slumber. There you were, staring at the ceiling, thinking about him, and once again, the horrible feeling of him not being able to pleasure you outside of your perverted wet dreams swirled around in your mind.

A knock could be heard from your front door, causing your thoughts to disappear— just like the dream you had last night. You climbed out of bed to answer the door, mumbling coherent words about who could be visiting you so early. It was most likely another salesman that wanted to sell something. You opened your front door, and all the annoyance in your body disappeared. There, your neighbor Totsumoto Yuushi stood at your door holding a box.

Your words were stuck in your throat as your fingers toyed with the ends of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. Totsumoto’s eyes traveled down your body, staring at your boobs, and he took a mental note of how your nipples poked through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing. He cleared his throat to clear out the tension in the air.

“The delivery guy put this outside my door, and it belongs to you.” Totsumoto’s deep voice croaked out.

“Thank you.” Your arms extended for him to drop the package in your arms.

Instead, he wiggled past the small gap between you and your cracked door and directly placed your package in your house. He walked out of your apartment and glanced down at you. The scent of him went by you, and you could feel your knees weaken.

“I’m going to get going now. If you need anything, just knock on my door.” His lips form a sly smile before he walks down to his apartment.

You closed the door when he was no longer in your eyesight. Your back pressed upon the door as you slowly slid down it—if only he could get you the one thing you wanted the most.

And that was for your wet dream to come true vividly.

#totsumoto yuushi x reader #lady k and the sick man #lady k and the sick man x reader #totsumoto yuushi smut #female reader #anime smut #anime x reader #manga smut #black reader #manga x reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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